ere to git dollars, an'
I'm goin' to git 'em. Cents won't do. Come on. Ther's six pore
kiddles, six pore lone little kiddies with their faces gapin' fer food
like a nest o' unfledged chicks in the early frosts o' spring. Now
every mother's son o' you 'ante' right here. Natur' busy or no natur'
busy, I don't quit till you've dipped into your wads. Now you,
Smallbones," he cried, fixing the little man with his desperate eyes.
"How much?"
Every eye was on the trust manipulator. He hated it. He hated them
all, but Doc Crombie most of all. But the tall, lean man was
impatient. He knew it was a race between him and a baby in a distant
quarter of the village.
"How much?" he threatened the hesitating man.
"A dollar," Smallbones muttered in the midst of profound silence. Even
the chips of the poker players had ceased to rattle.
A faint light of amusement crept into every eye, every eye except the
doctor's.
Suddenly his lean figure pounced forward and stood before the
beflustered speaker.
"I said 'how much?'" he rasped, "'cause Barnriff knows its manners.
Wal, the social etiquette o' Barnriff is satisfied, so I ken talk
straight. Say, you an' me have piled a tidy heap in this yer city, so
I guess you're goin' to match my hundred dollars right here. An' I tel
you squar', an' I'm a man o' my word, if you don't you'll get a bath
in Rocket's hoss-trough which'll do you till the next Presidential
Election--if it pizens every hoss for miles around Barnriff. Guess
I'll take that hundred dollars."
And he did. The furious Smallbones "weighed out" amid a circle of
smiles, which suddenly seemed to light up the entire bar-room. Nor had
he a single spoken word of protest. But he yielded himself up to the
demands of the masterful doctor only to save himself the ducking he
was certain awaited his refusal.
The rest was play to Doc Crombie. As he had pointed out, Barnriff's
social demands had been satisfied by his giving Smallbones the
option of stating the amount of his contribution, and, as the
result had not come up to requirements, he dispensed with further
delicacy, and assessed each man present with the cool arbitrariness
of a Socialist Chancellor. But in this case the process was not
without justification. He knew just how much each man could afford,
and he took not one cent more--or less.
This fact was exampled when he came to Jim's table. Jim looked up from
his cards. He understood Crombie.
"Well, Doc," he said,
|